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-1588- 


Copyright,  1888 
BY  WIZARD  V.  HUNTINGTON 


438918 


An  aged  man,  with  mournful  mien, 
Moved  slowly  o'er  the  village  green ; 
And  as  he  paused,  and  looked  around, 
Upon  this  old  familiar  ground, 
I  thought  I  heard  him  sadly  say  : 
"Alas!  alas!  my  yesterday.'' 


II 

His  form  was  bent  with  pressing  years ; 
His  face  revealed  the  mark  of  tears ; 
His  old-time  garb  was  threadbare  worn, 
And  made  him  look  yet  more  forlorn; 
As,  leaning  low  upon  his  cane, 
He  seemed  to  speak  those  words  again. 


Ill 

The  children  lingered  on  their  way, 

To  see  this  stranger,  old  and  gray; 

And,  marv'ling,  asked  themselves  among: 

"Could  he  have  been,  like  us,  once  young?" 

Then  Wonder  fled  at  Age  distressed, 

And  Pity  moved  each  infant  breast. 

"Oh!  ancient  man,"  quoth  I,  "I  pray 
Why  mournest  thou  for  yesterday?" 


IV 

"  Wherefore,"  he  said,  "dost  question  me 
In  this — my  last  extremity? 
For  friends  are  few  and  seldom  seen 
Whene'er  the  storm  clouds  intervene ; 
But,  let  our  bark  outride  the  blast, 
'Neath  sunny  skies  her  anchors  cast, 
And  lo!  to  fickle  impulse  true, 
With  coming  Fortune,  friends  come  too. 


V 

Where  Indian  spices  freight  the  air 
With  fragrance  ever  sweet  and  rare, 
I've  seen  each  pleasant,  peaceful  isle 
Adorned  with  Nature's  fairest  smile, 
As  though  to  all  the  world  she'd  say: 
1  Here  will  I  take  my  holiday.' 
Too  quickly  doth  a  hand,  unseen, 
Shut  out  this  view  and  shift  the  scene 


J  ra^ 


VI 

i  To  Afric's  shore — that  torrid  main. 
Oh !  hear'st  thou  not  the  hurricane ! 
Sprung  from  its  lair  in  Libyan  land, 
Place  of  simoon  and  desert  sand? 
Again  resounds  the  lion's  roar 
Upon  that  lonely,  dismal  shore; 
Once  more  the  warrior's  battle  cry 
Up  from  the  glade  goes  floating  by. 


VII 

"  Where  Arctic  frosts  begirt  the  pole, 
And  make  of  it  a  phantom  goal, 
Whose  mystery  remains  the  same 
As  when  this  world  from  chaos  came 
There,  too,  my  fate  hath  taken  me, 
Bnt  to  return — the  wreck  you  see. 


VIII 

"  Oft  as  a  child  my  feet  here  strayed, 
Among  these  trees  I've  sought  the  shade ; 
And  here,  rejoiced  o'er  school  tasks  done, 
I've  watched  the  setting  of  the  sun, 
Which  seems  not  now  so  far  away, 
As  when  it  marked  that  youthful  day. 


IX 

"  Ye  peaceful  hills !  how  fair  to  see — 
Dear  boundaries  of  mine  infancy ; 
Behold  this  early  dwelling  place 
Forever  locked  in  thine  embrace ; 
When  Life  and  Death  here  meet  no  more, 
Still  will  ye  watch  the  valley  o'er. 


X 

"  What  voices  low  salute  the  ear 
When  Mem'ry  bids  the  Past  appear! 
What  forms  and  faces  greet  the  eye, 
And  pass  in  quick  succession  by, 
As  homeward  bound,  from  Learning's  seat, 
They  throng  each  quiet  village  street ! 


XI 

"  Some  wend  their  way,  with  idle  speech; 
Some,  doth  the  book  of  Nature  teach; 
Some  move  in  little  groups  apart, 
As  clannish  instinct  sways  the  heart, 
And  prompts  thus  early  to  define 
The  winding  of  each  social  line. 


Jjg* 


XII 

"  Some  trick  the  old ;  with  mock  and  jeer 
Some  wring  from  Age  th'  unwilling  tear ; 
Some,  of  a  gentler  sex  and  mien, 
Bring  sweet  Compassion  to  the  scene ; 
Some  smile,  some  sing  an  old-time  song, 
And  others,  heedless,  pass  along. 


XIII 

"  With  snow-clad  ground  in  Winter's  tide, 
When  merrily  the  sledges  glide 
O'er  sun-lit  jewels  flashing  there, 
How  quickly  did  we  rout  dull  care! 
Naught  made  our  joy  seem  more  complete 
Than  tinkling  bells  and  prancing  feet. 


XIV 

"  By  yonder  brooklet's  vernal  brink, 
How  sings  again  the  bobolink ! 
Sweet  as  the  voice  of  one  I  knew, 
Who  sleeps  so  deep,  beneath  the  dew — 
E'en  Nature's  notes,  in  tones  more  dear, 
Could  never  hope  to  reach  her  ear. 


ILift 


XV 

How  happy  sped  the  summer-time 

With  harvest  song  throughout  our  clime ! 

Again  the  reapers  drift  afield ; 

Again  the  golden  banners  yield ; 

The  sturdy  strokes,  firm  dealt  and  slow, 

Soon  lay  each  bearded  army  low. 


XVI 

"  And  then  came  Autumn  in  the  train, 
With  ripened  fruit  and  groaning  wain; 
So  full  she  looked  of  coming  cheer, 
One  scarce  could  note  the  dying  year; 
But,  ever  thus,  it  seems  to  me, 
Few  pleasures  free  from  pain  can  be. 


IP* 


XVII 

In  yonder  tree-embowered  street, 

Of  turf  bereft  by  passing  feet, 

There  is  a  cottage,  small  and  old, 

Whose  hearth,  once  bright,  has  long  been  cold ; 

Each  window  then  revealed  at  night 

A  welcome  home  in  ev'ry  light ; 

Bnt  now,  that  I  have  ceased  to  roam, 

I  find,  for  me,  no  light — no  home. 


XVIII 

My  mother,  standing  at  the  door 
To  watch  me  thence,  I'll  see  no  more ; 
There  did  my  father  daily  strive, 
And  vainly  hope,  anew,  to  thrive  ; 
Until,  with  burdens  overcome, . 
He,  too,  has  sought  another  home. 


XIX 

"  Down  in  the  churchyard's  hallowed  nook, 
Fast  by  the  ever-flowing  brook, 
There,  'neath  the  willow  and  the  yew, 
All  whom  I  loved  are  lost  to  view. 
Then,  marvel  not,  that  I  should  say: 
Alas!  alas!  my  yesterday." 


XX 

Thus  did  he  speak,  and  went  his  way ; 
Each  silent  bird  resumed  its  lay ; 
The  breeze,  all  hushed  in  sympathy, 
Again  communed  with  ev'ry  tree, 
And,  whisp'ring  low,  still  seems  to  say 
"Alas!  alas!  my  yesterday." 


^**p- 

*»          ^  rf  >*f*'A.5^'. 


YC   14494 


-38918 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


